RAFAEL HERNÁNDEZ AIRPORT
When the plane wheels hit the ground everybody claps
like they do during worship & I guess it makes sense
to praise the landing.
Each passenger putting their faith in the pilot
& the flight attendants.
& for 3 hours and 45 minutes
we are the closest to heaven we will ever be.
Oh, how dope to be part of a glorious congregation in the sky!
A rapture of Boricuas rising
like we always knew we deserved to.
Like Stars.
Nah. Nah. Nah.
Like Angels.
Nah. Nah. Nah.
Like chosen ones celebrating
this going home.
This second coming.
A TALE OF TWO PUERTO RICANS
Mami’s brother meets us at the airport.
He is tall and looks just like Mami but with a goatee.
I watch the other families greet each other
with long hugs and sometimes tears.
They talk Spanish fast, no silence to fill with wonder.
Mami’s brother leans in to hug Mami.
She extends her hand instead.
I extend mine too so that she doesn’t feel alone
in her decision.
Mami’s brother grabs my hand
and says I can call him Tío Richie.
Tío Richie,
I repeat like I want those words to mean something.
Like I want to brag about him in New York.
I have an uncle who lives in Puerto Rico!
Maybe I’ll write about him in a school essay
or somewhere permanent like that.
I finally feel like I have some direct connection
to this strange land. Like if Puerto Rico is his
then maybe it could be mine too.
& just when I start thinking
that I finally belong somewhere,
Tío Richie jokes that I grew up
to be quite the gringa.
Suddenly, I feel like I don’t belong anywhere.
Or maybe I belong everywhere.
PUERTO RICAN HISTORY
In the car with Tío Richie I try to search for the history
Señor Maví was talking about.
I look for it as we drive past the trees,
the beaches, and the colorful houses.
Maybe our history is in how beautiful the land is.
Maybe our history is in the language.
Tío Richie plays salsa on the radio and taps his fingers
on the steering wheel.
His hands dance as if they were their own body.
Mami is stoic. Stoic means without emotion. I think.
I remember what Ms. Rivera said
about music being inside of us.
Maybe history is inside of Mami and I just can’t see it.
Maybe it’s always been there.
Dancing. Laughing.
Waiting to be embraced
like the people hugging each other
at the airport.
Puerto Rico doesn’t have the answers I am looking for.
Just more questions.
THE HOUSES IN PUERTO RICO
are pink and blue and orange and green
Is this legal? I ask Tío.
In Brooklyn
coloring any wall is grounds to get you arrested.
In Aguadilla
you get to live inside of your own mural.
Suddenly graffiti makes sense to me
as something that belongs to us.
A rainbow that seeps out of us
like some extension of our blood.
WHAT HAPPENED TO MAMI
We park on a hill. The yellow house
at the top almost looks like a sunrise.
When we go inside
I find out Mami has a sister too.
Maravilla runs and crashes into Mami.
Mami wraps her hands around Maravilla
as if she’s been saving them for her
this whole time.
I’ve never seen Mami cry out of happiness.
Mami has a father too. He doesn’t greet her.
He walks into his room
and shuts the door.
I notice that Maravilla talks the same way Danny does.
She rocks back and forth with excitement.
I think of Danny and his Cheez Doodle smile.
Mami kisses Maravilla goodbye and quickly leaves the house.
She yells ¡Avanza! to us from outside.
What’s up with Mami? I ask Tío.
Tío says: You’re too young to understand.
I respond
Try me.
HOW WE TALK
TRY ME
Try me means take a chance on me.
Try me means I dare you.
Try me means don’t sleep on me.
Try me is a threat
and a promise
at the same damn time.
VISITING BORI WELA IN THE HOSPITAL
Only two of us are allowed in the room.
Tío offers to go in with Mami but Mami grabs my hand
and drags me
inside instead.
Bori Wela’s white hair blends in with her pillow.
Her skin is yellow like our walls in Brooklyn.
There are tubes in her nose.
A machine next to her beeps
sounds just like a beeper going off
except the number on the screen is a heartbeat.
Bori Wela looks like she is sleeping
but the doctor suggests we say something anyway.
Says she can hear us. Mami’s hand wraps around Bori Wela
super careful not to disturb the IV.
Mami. Llegué. Tarde, pero llegué. Guao. Te pusiste vieja. Jaja.
Te traje a Sarai. Sarai, dile algo a tu abuela.
If we were in Brooklyn this would be the part
where Mami hands me the phone.
I feel terrible for all of the times I felt annoyed
to speak in Spanish.
One day, just like the phone,
this machine will stop ringing.
This is my last chance to fill the silence with wonder.
I grab Bori Wela’s hand.
I don’t know what else to say
except the obvious.
Hola Wela.
Aquí estamos.
Estamos aquí.
We’re here.
I can feel Bori Wela’s hand squeeze mine.
I imagine this is how her hand held the phone
whenever Mami called.
IN CASE OF EMERGENCY
LEARN PUERTO RICAN HISTORY
Tío Richie asks Mami if he can take la Gringuita
on a drive to San Juan.
By la Gringuita he means me
and laughs like he’s a comedian.
I beg Mami to let me go.
She asks Tío Richie if his wife is coming.
Tío Richie says she’s already in the car.
Mami reluctantly agrees. Reluctant is a new word.
It means she almost says no.
But she doesn’t say yes either.
She just purses her lips
and uses them to point
to her purse. I run to the brown crocodile skin
purse and hand it to Mami.
She pulls out twenty dollars
& tells me to use it en caso de emergencia.
Tío Richie, do you know Puerto Rican history?
We’re heading there right now, he says.
GETTING TO KNOW YOU
GETTING TO KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU
It’s a long-ass drive from Aguadilla to San Juan.
I imagine this is what it feels like for Ms. Rivera
and Papi to travel to Brooklyn from The Bronx.
Tío Richie’s wife’s is nice enough.
Her name is Consuelo
but there is nothing comforting about her.
She’s definitely the opposite of that
on this car ride. Consuelo talks fast and often.
She’s also way too affectionate for my taste.
She’s riding shot gun and somehow her long-ass arms
manage to reach over to the back seat.
Touching my hair. Caressing my face. Tapping my knee.
She thinks I am so beautiful.
You look exactly like your mother when she was younger.
¡Igualita! ¿Verdad, Richie? An exact mirror!
She wants to know all about my life in Bushwick.
How’s school? Do I like boys yet?
I got so big! She remembers
when I was born & now look at me!
Time flies! Man, how time flies.
How’s the new apartment?
She says she knows how rough it must have been
to move around so much.
I can’t answer one thing
before she’s on to the next.
I don’t even know this lady
and she could write a biography on
my life. She said Bori Wela would update her
on how us & Mami were doing in New York.
I may not know a lot about Puerto Rican history
but I know Puerto Ricans love bochinche.
Consuelo would make a good journalist,
or a terrible one.
Déjala hablar, Tío Richie scolds his wife.
He’s sure I have questions before we head back.
Why did Mami leave Puerto Rico?
Suddenly nobody is talking fast.
Suddenly no one is talking at all.
TÍO RICHIE WANTS TO TALK PUERTO RICAN HISTORY
I can tell he’s tryna avoid my question about Mami
But I’ma let him rock.
Let’s seeeee. He stretches the “e” out real professor-like.
Where do I start?
He says he can start as far back as when the Spanish
displaced the original Native people out their home Borikén.
Displaced? Is this what happens in Brooklyn
when the cool white teacher’s husband
buys up our buildings?
I think to myself.
Or when Spain started transporting enslaved Africans
to the island & killing off the Natives.
Or when the rebellion against Spain
called el Grito De Lares occurred.
Or when slavery was finally abolished.
Or when the United States invaded Puerto Rico
Or when Puerto Ricans became U.S. citizens.
But not really, ’cause we can’t vote for president, he laughs.
Or the Ponce Massacre
when police opened fire on peaceful protestors.
Damn, that sounds like Bushwick
after the Puerto Rican Day Parade!
I make this connection
out loud.
Tío Richie pauses, confused.
I take this opportunity to breathe. Deep.
Damn, Tío, you’re like a whole-ass historian.
I think of Señor Maví & decide to test his knowledge.
Is it true that the flag was illegal to own?
Tío Richie laughs, then says:
Why do you think we wave it so hard?
I want to laugh too
but I am so angry & so afraid.
Angry I didn’t know.
Angry there weren’t books in the library about this.
Afraid I’ll forget all of this history.
Afraid I’ll remember.
DIASPORICAN BLUES
I didn’t know any of this.
Tío tells me not to feel bad
that he didn’t know either
till he went to college.
But I don’t feel bad.
I am angry & I put the blame on Mami.
I tell Tío Richie
that I am so mad at Mami
for not telling me
how many Puerto Ricans fought
and are still fighting
for their independence
so that I could be the proud-ass Boricua
waving a flag
on 116th Street every year.
Tío Richie says
People who leave the island are part of the diáspora.
Diasporican, if you will.
Then Consuelo lives up to her name
& says the first comforting thing
I’ve heard all day. She says that
leaving the island is a hard decision.
and that ever since Mami
moved to New York
she’s spent her life
just trying to survive the day.
& if you think about it, really think about it,
staying alive, well, that too is Puerto Rican history.
WHAT HAPPENED TO MAMI
Mami’s father had lost his job
en la finca due to some new
government project that was
supposed to make life in Puerto Rico
easier for everyone but instead
left Mami’s father trying to figure out
how they were going to survive.
Mami couldn’t be bothered
with her father’s problems
’cause she met Papi
and fell in love.
But Mami’s father didn’t approve
and would call Mami the same names
Mami calls Estrella when she’s
angry. Puta. Sucia. Callejera.
Soon Mami was forbidden
from seeing Papi but she would
sneak away during school hours
to play hooky and see him anyway.
When Mami’s father found out
he locked her in a room.
Damnnnn. Like Rapunzel?
Tío Richie says: Who?
I say never mind
& invite him to go on.
Tío Richie says he didn’t see Mami for weeks.
Bori Wela fought & fought with Mami’s father
until he agreed to let her out.
The next time Tío Richie saw Mami
she asked him to help her run away.
Away from her father.
Away from Puerto Rico.
But Tío Richie felt that all Mami had to do
was follow the rules like he did.
Tío Richie says he’s not a man of regrets.
But he regrets doing nothing.
Doing nothing is sometimes
the worst thing you can do.
MAMI & PAPI’S LIFE AS A SALSA SONG
PERIÓDICO DE AYER
So Papi told Mami he couldn’t be sure but he had heard
there were better opportunities in New York
for Puerto Ricans. They could be together &
live better than they did in Puerto Rico.
It was a win-win! He knew a guy who knew a guy
who knew a guy that could get him a job.
A good job. & just like that they bounced.
Since Mami couldn’t write well
she’d clip photos of her new neighborhood
out of newspapers and mail them to Bori Wela.
It’s as if Mami was the journalist of her own life
& her life in Puerto Rico was old news.
MY LIFE AS A SALSA SONG
TODO TIENE SU FINAL
Bori Wela passed away
as we boarded the plane
back to Brooklyn.
Mami declined Tío Richie’s offer
to extend the plane tickets so that
we could stay for the funeral.
Life goes on
Mami said
wiping away tears.
How life went on
with Mami & Papi
after they left
Puerto Rico.
How life is going on
with Estrella & Jesus back in Brooklyn.
How life will go on
for Lala & Ms. Rivera.
I wonder how life went on
with Piano Man and his wife.
Mami, I plead. Let’s stay.
Wela would have wanted that.
Staying won’t bring her back.
You can’t change what happened in the past
Mami says.
Maybe to herself. Maybe to me.
Todo tiene su final.
Nada dura para siempre.
BOCHINCHE
Back in Brooklyn
Estrella is pregnant.
No one knows what to do.
Papi came down all the way from The Bronx,
on a weekday
to greet us with the news!
He’s storming through Brooklyn
looking for Jesus.
Mami is blaming Papi
for letting Estrella run wild.
Estrella is hype for the chance
at being a better mom than Mami.
IMAGINATION GONE WILD
Estrella is back living with us.
At least until the baby is born.
After that she has plans.
Jesus & her are leaving Bushwick.
She says Jesus has been working hard
to get everything the baby needs &
they found a cheaper apartment in The Bronx.
Estrella says the baby will have Jordans & a fancy crib